The Chair
by MellaBrooke
Summary: Harry has a new ritual to distract him. Ron/Harry.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ah. I'm back. Who's excited? I know I am! I don't know what came over me, but I got this sudden burst of energy to write this (though I've been all over myself to write Ugly Betty.) **

**I'm actually kind of proud of it.**

**Hope you love it. :)**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own rights to Harry. Nor to Ron. Though, if I did, it'd be totally awesome. :)**

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**The Chair**

It was midnight in London when Harry finally managed to remove himself from his seat at the head of the kitchen table. This was the same seat he had frequented all week; the seat that was usually reserved for another, very different, very special guest.

But, as this guest's visits had become less and less frequent as of late, Harry had decided it was only fair that he fill the void himself.

It started on a Monday when he first sat down in the seat he did not call his own, and, by the end of the week, it was ritual.

At six in the evening, like clockwork, he would take his seat, slowly eat his meal, read the paper and then he would simply sit there. No visitors. No talking. No nothing.

For hours, he stayed there, planted almost motionless in his chair, just staring at a spot on the wall or out his window into the city.

But, apparently, after a week of this, fate thought that Harry needed a change.

So, as he began the short walk to his bedroom, he was surprised when he heard a knock on the door.

Pausing, he turned to look in the direction of the noise.

Then, after another knock, he furrowed his brow as he began to walk towards it.

Upon reaching the door, he heaved a tired sigh before reluctantly opening it.

He was expecting to see Ginny, once again dressed all in blue (his favorite color), begging him to give her another chance.

Or he could've even believed Hermione had stopped by again to chastise him for not calling her back last Wednesday.

But he was definitely unprepared to see his actual visitor. The same visitor whose chair he had taken to sitting in.

The visitor he sorely missed and deeply loved.

"Ron?" he asked, his voice almost hoarse due to lack of use.

The redhead standing in front of him smiled - a big, warm, goofy grin before nodding. "Last time I checked."

It was obvious to Ron by the way Harry's pupils had dilated and the fact that his mouth was hanging open that he had definitely caught his best mate by surprise.

"I'm sorry it's so late," he said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, which were old and worn – probably hand-me-downs from his older brother Charlie. "But I really needed to talk to you." He paused, looking up at Harry.

"Are you going to invite me in?" he asked, the smirk in his voice waking Harry up from his shocked daze.

"Sorry," Harry replied hurriedly. "Of course, come in." As he said this, he backed up, opening the door wide enough for Ron to enter.

"Thanks," Ron said, walking into the flat and looking around.

As he saw a familiar picture, he stopped and smiled - a soft, close lipped smile. "I remember that day," he said, walking over to pick it up.

Harry closed the door and walked in Ron's direction, looking at the picture over his friend's shoulder.

In the photo were the figures of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, pushing each other back and forth out of the line of sight.

It was taken the day of Bill's wedding after Harry had jokingly insisted that Hermione and Ron would be the next in line to hold a wedding at the Burrow. The two friends, who were embarrassed at the suggestion, then began a shoving match with their raven haired friend.

"You were wrong though," Ron said, putting the picture down and looking at Harry.

Harry returned Ron's blue eyed gaze, his brow furrowing once more, this time in confusion. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "You guys are getting married next month."

The red head chuckled before moving to sit on Harry's couch. "We _**were**_ getting married," he corrected.

As he said this, Harry's green eyes got wide once again. "What happened?"

"Well," Ron began as Harry moved to sit on the couch with him.

"We'd been having these stupid fights for a while." He explained, making a face that showed how clearly disgusted he was about the particular brand of fighting. "About the bleeding flowers and what color the bridesmaid dresses should be."

He paused and looked over at his best mate. "You know how Hermione can be about things…"

Harry nodded. Since their first year at Hogwarts, it had been evident that Hermione was nothing if not the perfectionist.

"But, after a few hours, we'd always make up… in bed."

As Ron said this, Harry felt a twinge of jealousy.

Not jealousy of Ron because he was with Hermione.

In fact, it was quite the opposite actually.

He, Harry Potter, was jealous of Hermione-Bushyhaired!Knowitall-Granger because she was the one who shared a bed with Ronald-Amazingsmile!Gorgeoushair-Weasley.

It was only right that he feel jealous. After all, the sole purpose of the ritual was to distract Harry from the fact that Ron had chosen Hermione over him.

Though, on the whole, it was entirely counterproductive as all he did the whole time was think of was Ron.

Of course, Ron had not known (and didn't know now) that Harry was an option because Harry kept his feelings to himself – one of the only noble and selfless things he thought he'd ever done.

He had kept his desire for his best mate a secret since he first realized he had feelings for him during what should've been their seventh year at Hogwarts.

In fact, he could still remember every detail of the exact moment he realized. It was when Ron saved him from the lake and destroyed the locket horocrux. He was dripping wet, his face contorted with anger and determination, and he had never looked so beautiful to Harry.

But then, they had gone back to Hermione and the two had shared what Harry could only dub "a special moment." A moment so "special" that, when he thought back to it, he became extremely nauseous.

And every moment since then, Harry had hidden his true feelings, wishing only to see Ron happy – even if it was with Hermione.

So, once again mustering up the energy to be happy for his friends, he nodded, signaling for Ron to continue with his story, which he was sure would be successful in finally sending him spiraling into a pit of endless depression.

But, instead of elaborating on how they made up, Ron said something that surprised him.

"Until tonight."

-

The room was absolutely silent as Ron looked down at his shoes, letting his words sink in.

"What do you mean 'until tonight'?" Harry finally asked, looking across the couch at the red head, who seemed to be filled with surprises tonight.

The other man sighed. "I mean that tonight, when we went to make up, it didn't work."

Again, the silence enveloped them.

Harry had absolutely no idea what to say. Usually when they fought, they worked it out themselves and he just played witness to it. It was how it always was and how, until now, he thought it always would be.

"Surely you'll make up," he offered, patting Ron on the shoulder. "I mean, you're Hermione and Ron. Meant to be or whatever."

Ron chuckled, a deep rumbling sound as he looked up at Harry. "I don't think we will."

"Why?" Harry asked, genuinely curious at what finally succeeded in separating what Fred and George had coined 'Ronmione.'

"Well," Ron began, "It's a long story, but the last straw was probably when I said someone else's name at a very crucial moment."

Before he could stop himself, Harry began to snigger. Only his best mate would be dumb enough to say the wrong name during sex.

The red head rolled his eyes as he waited for his friend to get it out of his system. "You finished?"

"Well, whose name did you say?" Harry asked after his laughter had died down.

There was a pause as Ron's ears began to grow pink.

"Was it Lavender's?"

Ron shook his head, his shaggy hair moving as he did so.

"Luna?"

Again, Ron shook his head.

Racking his brain, Harry threw out a slew of names of their former female peers, each being shot down by Ron.

Finally giving up the guessing game, Harry decided to go another route. "What did Hermione say?"

"Before or after she threw her engagement ring at me?" Ron asked with a grin.

"Either."

"Well, she said she reckons since I said YOUR name when I was having sex with HER, I probably have some sort of subconscious desire to be with you."

If it had been physically possible, Harry's jaw would've hit the ground upon hearing this. After all, being with Ron was all he ever thought about – at work, when he was sleep, at dinner, after dinner, in the shower…

Attempting to pull it together, he swallowed hard, trying to calm himself though his heart continued to beat furiously against his ribcage. "And what did you say?"

Ron laughed once again, looking from Harry to his shoes once more. "I told her it was bollocks!"

Acting quickly, Harry masked his immense disappointment and laughed with Ron. "Good one, mate."

The red head looked up at Harry again. His face showed no traces of amusement, instead a different look was there. One that Harry knew very well, as he often wore it in private when he thought of the man in front of him.

"You don't understand, Harry," he began seriously, "I told her it was bollocks because it wasn't my subconscious that wanted you… It was all of me."

Before Harry could reply, Ron continued. "I've known it since fourth year, Harry. When I was the thing you'd miss the most. I knew."

He sighed and looked down at the couch in between them.

"It was, like, the most intense moment of clarity I'll probably ever experience in my life when I realized. But, Harry, you have to understand how confused I was. I was fourteen and these feelings were new, scary, and yet, so familiar. I didn't know what to do. So, instead of being the brave Gryffindor I was supposed to be, I clung to Hermione with everything I had. And I was successful in fooling everyone - even myself. Until tonight."

In the pause, Harry was sure his heart stopped. "What-," he began, but was cut off by Ron's soft lips covering his own.

"I love you, Harry," he whispered, his voice low and husky – just the way Harry had always imagined.

And, in that moment, Harry could think of nothing else but the chair.

Ron's chair; where the two of them would shortly be, as Harry made Ron scream his name once more.

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**What did you think? I hope you enjoyed it. It's the longest thing I've ever wrote in ONE sitting.**

**I might continue... I might not. It just depends on YOU! :)**

**Anyway, have a great day!**

**XOXO**

**MellyBrooke.**


	2. Chapter 2

****

This is ridiculously shorter than I had initially intended, but I knew that this was the best place to end at. I needed to let Harry be girly for a bit (because, honestly, who wouldn't if they had just spent the night with Ron?) and now I'm trying to arrange my own thoughts regarding the next chapter. So... I guess this is a filler chapter? Sorry!

**I hope you enjoy it... despite it's pitiful length.**

**Disclaimer: STILL. DON'T. OWN. -sob-**

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That night, with his head resting on Ron's pale, extremely freckled chest, Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling.

Finally, after over twenty years, his life was working out.

Voldemort was gone.

He had finally succeeded in fading into obscurity.

And, quite unbelievably, his best friend loved him back.

It was absolute bliss and he wanted to spend the next few hours just basking in the fact that his feelings hadn't been unrequited all those years.

Not to mention that the sex had been brilliant.

For having played straight for the last few years, Ron had known exactly what to do when it came down to it. He knew exactly where to touch Harry to make him cry out, exactly where to kiss Harry to make him shiver, and exactly what to say to make Harry blush...

He drifted off into the memories of their hours spent making love... Just thinking about the way Ron's hair had clung to his forehead, which was dotted in sweat as he made love to Harry... It made him shiver in pleasure.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked, grinning down at Harry.

A light blush found it's way to Harry's pale cheeks at the inquery. "I'm fine," he mumbled, burying his face into Ron's chest once more.

The ginger chuckled at his friend's - now lover - response, clearly amused by his sudden shyness.

"If you say so."

For the remainder of the night, the two of them stayed like that: Harry cuddled as closely as possible to Ron. He didn't want to risk letting him go for a moment for fear that he might wake up and it would've all be a dream.

The next morning, Harry woke and looked up at Ron's sleeping face with a warm, sleepy smile. In spite of the fact that the ginger was snoring like a chainsaw and his mouth was hanging wide open, he was still, by far, the most gorgeous thing Harry was sure he'd ever seen. And, at least for now - if not for the rest of his life - he was all Harry's.

The thought made him feel much more girly than he cared to admit. After all, he had saved the wizarding world, facing off with Voldemort; shouldn't he be a bit more manly than he was currently behaving?

Shaking off his embarassment at himself, he slid from Ron's arms and pulled on his boxers before padding barefoot off in the direction of the kitchen.

He knew Ron well enough to realize that when he finally woke from his slumber, his stomach would be growling like a Hungarian Horntail. So, in an effort to ease his inner dragon, Harry began looking through the pantry in an attempt to circumvent his hunger.

However, after a quick survey of the contents of his kitchen, Harry was only able to find a half-eaten box of crackers, some oatmeal, and leftover takeout boxes in his refridgerator. Frowning at the now closed door of the refridgerator, Harry decided he would have to dress and make a quick trip to the shop before Ron woke.

Walking into his room, he smiled to see Ron still asleep, his entire body sprawled across Harry's full size bed. Then, he quietly began dressing.

After he was finished, he scrawled a quick note to Ron and left it on the bedside table before he grabbed his wallet and keys and left the flat.

He skipped stairs, humming idly to himself as he did so. In spite of the fact that it was another gloomy day in London, Harry hardly noticed. He was thinking warmly about how good it would feel to walk back into his flat and have Ron waiting on him.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't pay much attention to where he was walking and managed to run into someone.

Hurriedly, he snapped out of it and went to apologize only to realize he knew the person.

"Hermione..."

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**Oh my! What's gonna happen? I'm awful at pretending to be suspenseful.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: And so we continue... I'm sorry to admit, Ron is completely absent from this chapter. HOWEVER, I do hope the fact that I updated makes up for this, as he will definitely be in the next one.**

**I hope all is well with you, reader. **

**Disclaimer: I STILL DON'T OWN THIS AND IT MAKES ME SAD :(  
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Upon realizing who it was that had bumped into her, Hermione's lips slid into a friendly smile.

"Hello Harry," she greeted, her voice sounding just as warm and caring as ever - in spite of the fact that she had been left, just that previous night, by her boyfriend of six years.

He wasn't sure what to respond with. What did one say in this sort of situation? _So sorry for running you over. I was clearly distracted by the thought of your ex-fiancee. You know, our mutual best friend since we were eleven. The same man whose name I spent screaming in ecstasy the entire night. Oh, and by the way, nice jumper. _

"Er. Sorry for almost knocking you over," Harry began, convincing himself that he sounded more embarrassed by his actions than nervous about hers. "Wasn't exactly watching where I was going."

The smile remained on her face as she replied. "It's quite alright, Harry. No permanent injuries." Her teeth were just as perfect as they had been since her trip to see Madam Pomfrey their fifth year. "Besides, the weather's nice out today, isn't it?"

He followed her gaze upwards, looking at the sky, and was surprised to find that, for once, it was blue and completely free of clouds - a rare thing in London.

"It is," he agreed. Then, his green eyes fell back to her. It didn't seem to him a good sign that their conversation had fallen to the weather. That was generally a topic during small talk and they were supposed to be best friends, weren't they?

Looking down at her side, he noticed she was carrying an overnight bag. "Am I keeping you from getting somewhere?"

At his question, her cheeks flushed lightly. "Oh no, of course not," she hurriedly replied.

He gave her a pointed look, which clearly said he didn't believe her.

Realizing she couldn't lie to him, she heaved an exasperated sigh and came clean.

"Alright, yes, if you must know," Hermione replied. "But you must promise not to tell Ronald if I tell you."

Harry's brow arched in curiosity. Where could she possibly be going that she didn't want Ron to know about? What had she possibly done? And could it possibly be worse than Ron staying with her when he knew he wanted to be with Harry? "I promise."

She recycled his pointed look from earlier, her brown eyes disbelieving of his promise.

At this, he smiled. Neither of them could lie to the other. He supposed it was the curse of having been friends for too long. "Fine. I promise to try to keep my mouth shut."

This response seemed to satisfy her. "Here, let's go into this coffee house. If I'm going to tell you the story, I'm going to need copious amounts of sugar."

Harry chuckled at this, but obediently followed her.

Once they were inside and had their respective drinks, they took a seat at a small table in the back corner.

It was a few moments after they had sat down before Hermione actually spoke.

"Harry, you know that I love Ron..." Harry nodded; this was something that no one would ever contest - especially not anyone who had been to Hogwarts with them. "But, in the past few months... I've realized a few things. Some of them are about Ron, but most of them are about me."

He sat, ever the diligent listener, watching her stir the sugar into her tea as she spoke.

"One of these things is that, though I do love Ronald, I'm not in love with him anymore."

In spite of himself, his eyes widened in surprise. Hermione, not in love with Ron? What was this world coming to?

"Additionally," the young brunette continued. "I've discovered that I am in love with someone else." Once more, her cheeks burned a deep rose color. "Harry... I've been having an affair."

If Harry had been expecting a confession from her, this had not been it.

His mouth was slack. An affair? Hermione? No... "That's... impossible," Harry said after a moment. Hermione having an affair was like Hermione not doing her homework or Hermione failing her O.W.L.S. In other words, clearly not possible.

She smiled sheepishly at his response. It was obviously what she had expected him to say. "That's what I thought," she replied before taking a sip of her tea.

"Who is he?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. Who could possibly be better than Ron? Surely no one of this caliber existed. The world could not contain someone like that.

At this question, Hermione bit down on her bottom lip, making evident her nerves. "I'm... not sure if I should tell you," she said after a few moments.

"You don't have to," he assured her, giving her a small, comforting smile. "I was merely curious."

A few more seconds of silence passed between them before she said the name of the one person he would never have imagined her to have anything to do with.

"Draco Malfoy."

It was as if she had just cursed him. He couldn't speak. He could merely stare at her with wide eyes in complete bewilderment.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you," she said sadly, frowning slightly.

Her frown seemed to jolt him from his scrambled thoughts.

"You're... seeing _Draco Malfoy_? The same Draco from school? The one who caused us endless years of suffering?"

She nodded. "He's actually quite nice once you get to know him. I'm not surprised Myrtle became fond of him sixth year." As she spoke she looked down at her cup; almost afraid, it seemed, to look up at Harry.

"Blimey..." He was still shocked. Hermione and Draco? He hadn't set out of his flat this morning expecting to be knocked on his arse by a confession like this. He looked to her. "He makes you happy?"

Hermione's brown eyes met his emerald ones and she nodded, smiling slightly.

"When I worked late, he would come to my office with dinner. And his kisses..."

"Oi," Harry cried, stopping her before she could finished that sentence. There were just some things that mates didn't tell one another and how well Draco Malfoy snogged was definitely one of them.

The young witch blushed before muttering a sheepish apology.

"So, is that where you're headed? To Draco's?"

Harry was certain he had never seen a more radiant smile on Hermione's face than the one she had now.

"Yes," she began; her voice holding the same note of unmistakeable affection that he had heard Fleur speak in when she and Bill were married. "He's just gotten a flat down from the Leaky Cauldron. He's asked me to move in with him."

He hesitated. All his instincts said to warn her that perhaps that wouldn't be the best idea. However, he knew Hermione was, in fact, the brightest witch he'd ever met and that she was old enough to make her own choices.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you," Hermione replied. "I realize the effort it took for you to say that." Her smile remained as she looked at him.

However, after a moment, her gaze trailed to the clock on the wall and she gasped. "Is that the time? Oh! I'm late!" She hurriedly stood up, grabbing her bag.

Harry smiled in amusement, watching her in her flustered state.

"Oh Harry, you understand, right?"

He nodded, his green eyes twinkling as he fought back his urge to laugh. "Go on. You can give me your written formal apologize later."

She punched him in the arm lightly. "Git." Then, with a smile and a wave, she disappeared out of the coffee shop and into the streets of London.

Once he was alone, Harry was left with a moral decision: _to tell Ron or not_...

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**I hope you enjoyed it. It's much longer than the last, which pleased me greatly...  
If you'd like to review, I encourage this. However, it is not expected. :)**

**Love,  
****Mella**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Oh hai there. I've missed you. :) ****I've been having a rough time trying to stay on track in school... which explains why I haven't updated until now. But, you know, you guys don't care about school! You want to know what's happening with Harry and Ron~ :D**

**As promised, Ron's in this... and I'm pretty happy with it... I think. **

**I think this might be the end of the series... But I guess it really depends on you guys and my own creativity. Either way, I hope you enjoy it. I'll stop talking now!**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything related to Harry Potter... except a few t-shirts and a Ron Weasley wand I got a WWoHP!**

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If Harry was perfectly honest, he could not for the life of him recall what happened in that next hour after Hermione had dashed out of the coffee shop.

His head was so full with confessions and questions that he didn't remember leaving the shop nor buying the groceries at the market. All he knew was that somehow his feet had managed to bring him back to his flat without his conscious knowledge.

Taking a breath, he unlocked the door and walked into his living room. After a quick glance around the room, he decided that Ron probably hadn't woken up yet.

He was a bit relieved by the fact that his best mate was still asleep. In all that time since Hermione's shocking confession and all the time he spent pondering what would happen, he still hadn't decided if he would tell Ron.

Walking into his kitchen, he began to put up his groceries. As he did so, he asked himself one thing - something he usually asked himself when in a moral dilemma - _**What would Ron do?**_

It wasn't always the best to do as Ron would as his best friend had a temper that could rival a Hungarian Horntail sometimes, but Harry couldn't help it. Obviously Ron made mistakes sometimes, but it was generally because he was emotional. Emotions ran strong in the Weasley family... and, having came from a family where emotions other than resentment were few and far between, Harry appreciated that more than he could ever find words to express.

'He'd probably have told Hermione to bugger off and called that git Draco all manner of derogatory terms,' thought Harry as he placed the milk in his fridge. 'Then he might've eaten Hermione's scone just for good measure...'

As he continued his mental debate, he moved about the kitchen putting things up and taking them down to begin breakfast. All the while, he was completely oblivious that Ron had woken and was leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed, watching him with a smile.

After several long moments, Harry finally nodded his head decisively. "I'm going to tell him," he said aloud.

Ron continued to grin as he moved away from the door to stand behind Harry. Once he was just inches behind him, he placed his hands on his mate's hips and kissed the side of his neck.

"Tell me what?" he breathed lowly.

Harry was startled by the sudden touch, but at the sound of Ron's voice, he relaxed noticeably. "That you're a git for sleeping so late," Harry returned easily.

The ginger chuckled and kissed Harry's neck once more before moving to lean on the counter next to where Harry was working on throwing together something that looked like it might be edible at some point in the near future.

"Are you keeping secrets from me, Harry?" he asked, his blue eyes watching Harry's every movement.

It took a moment of staring at his hands for Harry to make a decision regarding his course of action.

Sighing, he turned to look at Ron. "I ran into Hermione today," he admitted.

Ron shifted where he was standing. "Yeah?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. She, um, she's moving."

"I figured she might," Ron replied, looking from Harry down to his bare feet. "Did she say where to?"

Again, Harry paused. "Not exactly..." He shifted his weight as well, uncomfortable with what he was about to do. He had never enjoyed betraying secrets; he was like his dad in that regard.

"She told me something pretty surprising though..."

Blue eyes met green. "About me?"

"Sort-of, but more so about her," Harry said, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his head. "She, er, she doesn't seem all that broken up about you leaving..."

'That's good, Harry,' he thought. 'Ease into it...'

"I didn't expect her to be," the Weasley boy replied. "After all, she's been having an affair for the past few months."

At that, Harry's emerald eyes flew open and his jaw went slack. Ron... knew?

Harry's reaction made Ron chuckle.

"What?" he asked, his lips curved into a grin. "You thought I didn't know? For Godric's sake, I'm an Auror. You both must think I'm absolute rubbish at my job. Really boosts my confidence to know you guys have so much faith in me."

To his credit, the ebony haired man quickly recovered. "You know that's not what I thought."

Still, Ron continued to smile.

"Did you know -" Harry began, but Ron cut him off. "Malfoy."

Harry wasn't sure how many more surprises he could handle. His best mate professes his love, his other best mate confesses to an affair - with Draco of all people, and now he finds out that Ron knew all along... His mind handled Voldemort's malicious thoughts, but he didn't know if it could handle all this...

"And you didn't say anything?"

Ron shook his head. "Didn't matter to me. I mean, I was going mental trying to think of ways to seduce you, wasn't I? I didn't care if she was sleeping with him."

His head was swimming...

"So, wait, why didn't you tell her? I mean, she feels pretty guilty about the entire thing..."

"And I didn't feel guilty? I was engaged to her for months. I loved her... and every night the only way I could get off was to think of you. I think she had it fairly easy. Especially now that she knows my secret," Ron countered. "Look, it's not an issue for me. I'm happy if she's happy... I guess. I still think he's a greasy git, but Harry, it doesn't matter to me who she's shagged... It only matters that I'm the one shagging you."

Harry's cheeks flushed a light pink at that. "So you don't care if Hermione shags all your brothers?"

"I don't care if Hermione shags all my brothers or Ginny," the ginger replied, moving to wrap his arms around Harry.

"Just so long as I'm the one in your bed at night?" Harry continued.

Ron nodded. "Just so long as you're the one in my bed at night..."

"And if I felt the same...?"

His best mate's smile turned into a wry grin. "Then we might have to skip breakfast so I can take you back in our bedroom and have my way with you..."

Harry grinned. "Ron, I absolutely feel the same."

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**What'd you guys think? I hope you liked it!**

**Let me know?**

**XOXO.**


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